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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328622">as the earth runs to the ground</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwewillstay/pseuds/butwewillstay'>butwewillstay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:55:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwewillstay/pseuds/butwewillstay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"the world has ended, and all they have are guns and broken christmas lights." </p><p>-</p><p>christmas during the apocalypse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Endverse Castiel/Endverse Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>as the earth runs to the ground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>not beta read. title from "as the world caves in" by matt maltese</p><p> i rewatched "the end" on christmas, and this happened.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s been nine hundred and fifty-six days since the world ended. Since Sam said yes. Cas has counted every day, and no amount of candy-colored pills and drunken sex can make him lose count.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if Dean has kept count as well. Currently, the other man is sprawled across the dirty sofa on the other side of Cas’ cabin, fiddling with his silver pistol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Probably, he thinks, as he watches an errant snowflake float into the room through a hole in the South wall. He should fix it, but the cold doesn’t really bother him much when he’s stoned, which is always. Cas is sitting at his small table, next to the tiny christmas tree that Risa had given him a few days earlier. It’s really more of a branch than a tree, with a string of christmas lights that Chuck had found somewhere draped around it. They were cracked and wouldn’t turn on, although it’s not like Dean would have let him use some of the camp’s electricity to light them in the first place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can hear people laughing in the distance, and wonders if someone has organized some sort of party. On holidays, you can almost forget it’s the end times, if you have enough booze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cas wonders if he should join them, light up a joint and find someone to bring back to his cabin for a quick fuck. But Dean is here, and Cas doesn’t think that Dean would appreciate being kicked out so Cas can have sex.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More importantly, Cas doesn’t want to leave Dean alone on Christmas. He may not be an angel anymore, but Cas doesn’t need to be able to see into other planes of existence to know the condition of Dean’s soul, and how he drowns himself in guilt over Sam’s fate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Castiel has devoted his life to protecting Dean Winchester, so he’ll do what he can to help him, even though he’s failed in most of his other efforts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pops two pills from one of the many orange bottles littered around his room into his mouth, and pulls two bottles of whiskey from the battered cabinet next to his bed. Dean looks up as he crosses the room towards him, and Cas can’t read his expression. He takes the bottle Cas offers him and twists it open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown,” Cas says. Dean scoffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You high, Cas?” He asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” He answers, then pauses. “Only a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs, and for a second Cas thinks that he’s going to start another fight about his drug habits, but he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t feel much like Christmas,” He says instead. “We’ve lost everything.” Cas nods. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he knows, mostly means </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers the last Christmas before everything went to shit, when Dean had called him from a crappy motel room and he’d joined the Winchesters for spiked eggnog and their tradition of bad gifts from gas stations. Dean had given him a small plastic angel statue, because he thought it was funny. Sam had been happy, laughing with his brother despite the impending apocalypse. Five months later, he’d said yes to Lucifer. Now, the world has ended, and all they have are guns and broken christmas lights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got me,” Cas offers, then almost laughs at the notion. Quite an ill-suited replacement for the rest of humanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Dean says, and Cas wonders if he’s high enough to be hallucinating the ghost of a smile that flits across Dean’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside, the holiday party has evolved into a caroling session, and Cas can hear an off-key rendition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Angels We Have Heard on High</span>
  </em>
  <span> filter through the thin walls of his cabin. He wonders if he should remind them that the angels left long ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The singing’s good for morale, at least,” Dean says as if he’s read Cas’ mind. Cas nods in acknowledgment of his point and takes another swig of whiskey, the harsh taste burning down his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s our fearless leader, always thinking strategically,” Cas jests, and Dean stiffens a little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone has to,” He says, and sets his bottle on the floor. “I shouldn’t be just sittin’ around, I should go do a shift on guard duty or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes to stand up from the couch, and Cas grabs his arm and pulls him back down next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Christmas, Dean, let someone else worry about the Croats for now,” He says. “Chuck’s in charge of guard duty tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a hint of panic in Dean’s eyes, the kind that comes from too many years of fighting to survive without a chance to stop and think. Cas recognizes it from the mirror when he fell and was suddenly faced with a complete lack of orders and a surplus of emotions. The drugs and alcohol helped with that, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean moves closer to him, and the physical distance that Cas has grown accustomed to hiding behind is gone. It reminds Cas of years ago, when Dean trusted him enough to stand close, and when Cas was useful enough to have reason to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yearns for that time, when he could fight alongside him without being a burden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is far less panic in Dean’s eyes, although Cas still half expects him to pull back and retreat to his own cabin, to continue strategizing over how to find the Colt and kill the devil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is no longer an angel, but he can still picture Dean’s soul in his mind, as bright and beautiful as a star. Cas reaches out without meaning to, a hand along Dean’s jaw. His face is rough with stubble and dirt, but he smooths his hand along his cheek as though he can still mend Dean’s broken edges with a touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean kisses him, he tastes like whiskey and starlight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something loosens in Cas’ chest, and he pulls Dean forward until their foreheads bump together. He feels Dean’s hand on his hip, and when they pull apart, Dean looks more content than Cas has seen him in years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside the cabin, the carol-singers have moved on to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Silent Night</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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